The Right Thing
by star54kar
Summary: On the eve of the final battle, one man says goodbye.This story was written before the release of Deathly Hallows, and has no Spoilers for the aformentioned book.


**Title: **The Right Thing  
**Summary: **On the eve of the final battle, one man says goodbye.  
**Rating: **PG  
**Warnings: **Tugs on your heart strings. No Spoilers for DH.  
**Word Count: **773  
**Beta'd:** By the lovely nikohime from Livejournal, all remaining errors are mine.  
**Notes:** This story was written before the release of _Deathly Hollows. _

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**The Right Thing**

"_Alohomora_." The word is spoken softly; scarcely more than a whisper, and yet the sound carries, the vibrations echoing through the night's stillness. The door creaks softly as it opens inward, revealing the lone figure. The man stands tall in his dark blue robes; his eyes glimmering with determination and a fiercely profound sadness.

The lights are off, the darkness casting its eerie shadows over the room and its occupants. He leaves them off; it's after hours after all, and he knows he cannot afford to linger long. The man steps through the doorway, closing the door respectfully behind him before beginning his journey across the space. His footsteps fall heavily upon the floor, further penetrating the stifling stillness of the room with evidence of his presence.

The man pauses as he reaches the far end of the room, and for a moment blends into his surroundings as he stands in silence before the bedsides of the sleeping couple. They will not rouse; he knows of the charms that insure they'll rest in a comfortable in a magical slumber until morning. But despite that knowledge, it was important for him to come; to say what he needs to say.

"I'll never play a major role," he whispers; the familiar lump settling into his throat as he gazes upon them, perhaps for the very last time. "I'm not especially strong or powerful. I'm not a major strategist, or even very smart for that matter. I never have been and I never will be. "

"I'm not the one that people look to for hope or salvation; in fact, with the exception of a handful of people, I'm scarcely noticed by either side of this conflict. It is not my fate to save the world, and I could easily choose to avoid the danger of war altogether and let the chips fall where they may."

The man's eyes glisten with unshed tears as he continues, "But that is not the path I have chosen. My skills and powers may be modest, but I will stand my ground and fight. At dawn, the fate of our world as we know it will be decided, and I face the coming battle without knowing if I will survive to see another day."

"I'm not in this fight for fame or eternal glory. I'm not doing this to make anyone proud. I'm doing this because I've learned there are some things in this world worth fighting for; worth dying for. I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do."

Two tears escape from their watery prison as the man kneels beside the bed and places a gentle kiss upon the forehead of the slumbering man and whispers, "Goodbye, Dad." He then moves on to the next bed and sweetly kisses the sleeping woman's cheek, "Goodbye, Mum."

He rises to his feet and after one last longing gaze he whispers, "I love you," before turning away and making his journey back across the silent room. When he reaches the door, he pauses, takes a deep breath, but he does not turn back. The man reaches out his hand, opens the door, and steps out of the oppressive room; closing the door with a definitive click behind him.

His five companions arise to their feet as he enters the hall and he smiles sadly at them. No one speaks, as he is hugged by each of the three girls in turn. A strong hand clasps on his shoulder as he breaks the final embrace and he looks into the knowing and caring blue eyes of his companion as he asks, "You alright there, mate?"

"Thanks Ron," the man says softly, "I'll be okay in a moment."

Ron nods understandingly and steps back to allow the approach of his final companion. He meets the gaze of the green eyes that are haunted by the terrors and trials of his young life. The weight of the entire world literally rests on the shoulders of his skinny friend and yet he charges bravely forward with such fierce determination.

"Are you ready to go, Neville?"

"Yes, Harry. I'm ready."

The six of them prepare to Apparate to where the rest of the Order awaits them. Together they'll face the darkness. One of their number may have been brought to this moment by fate, though all of them have arrived at this moment by choice. Neville doesn't not know what the coming battle will bring, but as he looks around at Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Ron and Harry his heart is full and his mind is clear: there are some things that are worth dying for.


End file.
